Silver Bells and Cockleshells [Sivan]

[Torin Kilvin]

2nd, Searing, 122

Glade had raced by; after the new year's party and the slow drag of Frost the planting season had flown on wings past the shop and house that had become, in the three seasons since he'd come to claim them, to be called 'home' by the tall youth who owned them. As far north as the 'Jewel of the Northlands' was, even as Searing bloomed over it, it wasn't really hot. Perhaps some people thought of the weather that way, but for a man raised in a forge, the breeze felt soft and cool still. There would be days, even a couple weeks perhaps, when it would be hot. The wheat and other grain would need that time to ripen, and woe to the land on a year without them. It had happened a few times, unseasonal rainstorms lasting long enough to destroy what had been all but ready to harvest, or unexpected cold fronts coming down off the mountains.

Those years had been bad, but a blacksmith always had work, a runesmith many times as much. Glade was usually not an especially busy season for the profession, most who needed magic items for farming or the campaigns for conquest, riches, or glory knew to order them in Frost. The fruit of the runeforge took time, just as that of the fields did, sometimes more. This year had been different though, war was brewing, a god had fallen to mortal kind and the city was rife with ill portents and uncertainty. The reputation Torin had been carefully cultivating since he'd opened his shop the previous Ash had apparently been spreading roots throughout the city, aided, he was sure, in word-of-mouth spread by Kala and Aurin.

The frightened masses had sought protection and some level of certainty in whatever way they might. For the wealthy of the city, that had always meant magic. Every runesmith, alchemist, scrivener and necromancer in the city had been suddenly gifted more work than they could take. There was even word of artificers being called upon to create mechanical warders to protect their purchasers. Torin himself hadn't seen evidence of any of this last, nor heard from any credible source, but he had been working every day without stop, and often late into the night. Little time had been able to be spared for his friends, though he had set aside time to at least check on each.

Even more unfortunate had been the delay in setting up the alchemical lab he had planned with Sivan. The sudden demand on resources, particularly magical ones had meant he wasn't able to procure the needed tools to finish a proper set up, and, besides that, Sivan had been called on by his previous employer to help fill orders. Working at the much better equipped shop had been the better choice in the circumstances. Torin had not been happy about going from the certainty of seeing his friend daily to barely seeing him a handful of times the whole season but adjusting to circumstances was how you survived.

By the time the season was winding down those who could afford sudden commissions for magical items and elixirs had either gotten what they'd wanted, or decided that perhaps war was not quite so eminent as it had seemed in those first days of terror after the prince had fallen. There was still a higher than normal call for Torin's work, but he at least felt like he had some space to breathe now.

Kala had pulled some strings to get him the equipment he needed for the alchemical lab, which had arrived in several carefully packed crates the day before. Torin had taken them up to the small room built above his forge himself. The room built above the runeforge was still empty, quietly waiting for when the two young worldmages had time to explore artificing properly. He did not know the proper way to set up the alchemical equipment, or even if there was a specific way it should be set. It might be specific to the alchemist in question, so, he left everything in its protective packaging until his alchemist arrived.

Sivan wasn't his in any sense other than that he was the alchemist Torin knew best, the only one he was on a friendly footing with. They were friends. Beyond that was murky territory. They had shared touch and slept curled close together more than once, but not much more. The events of the prince's wedding had caused many unexpected ripples both wide reaching and personal for every person who knew of them and many who did not. In the case of the tall youth smith, it had caused his pockets to be lined with gold and his heart to be on meager rations.

He had sent a note via Timon to Sivan to let him know that the supplies had, finally, arrived and asking that he come by at his nearest convenient time to ensure that everything had arrived as expected. Torin himself wouldn't know if anything was amiss and getting things reshipped or replaced would take more time. The morning and early afternoon were, blessedly, empty of any work that could not wait, and Torin hoped he might get to spend them in the elf's company.

[Sivan]

His alchemist arrived, albeit not with bells on. Still, there was muffled tinkling from his rucksack, well padded glassware occasionally moving just right to make noise. Entropy eventually got around his attempts to keep his tools safe. Louder was the chatter between him and Timon as the young apprentice chatted him up, walking him across the yard from the shop to the forge.

"All right, I'll come see what you want when it's time to order lunch, Thivan..." The minstrel's exercises seemed to be helping with his lisp, but for whatever reason, in his excitement, he still slipped up on Sivan's name. It made the elf smile, though, and didn't seem to embarrass the lad. More outgoing than both Torin and Sivan, Timon had made Sivan his friend as well, collecting elder brother types perhaps to make up for the lack of care at home.

The elf was alone when he stepped into the forge. There was a bit of pink bepainting his golden cheeks and his eyes shone when they found his friend. Not waiting, he stepped up close, his fingers twining into the hair at the back of Torin's head as he kissed him. It wasn't a kiss of instigation, but rather one of greeting, though more intimate than most would share upon greeting.

"It's finally happening," he said with quiet excitement afterward.

Sivan figured he would be making alchemical agents to aid Torin in his runeforging first and foremost, and that was fine. He would still have time to brush up on his artificing skills, and he had a student who would be paying him for lessons in Summoning. Money would be coming in and he wouldn't feel as though he were freeloading. He might not know where he was headed, but he knew he was safe and supported for now—as safe and supported as one could be in a city still teetering on the brink of war.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin heard Timon and Sivan talking before he saw them, and he felt the elf's arrival before he'd even entered the property. The smith had learned that his Semblance was reluctant to remain inactive, coming on without his intention as soon as he was distracted. Instead of fighting it and becoming frustrated he had settled on expanding it to the limit of his range and letting it hum quietly in the back of his mind. Spread that thin it brought to him only vague awareness of everything living or magical within it, so he was used to the life patterns of life that existed around his home. Over the months since Aurin had gifted him the magic his range had widened and now he found himself constantly minorly aware of the whole city block. He could have, had he thought to, explained the daily routines of dozens of people, most of whose names he did not know. Once in a while he would become distracted from his work without knowing why, only to realize, after a few moments' reflection, that someone several houses down had broken their routine or someone unexpected had shown up and caused a stir in the normal life patterns.

As he looked up from the leather harness he'd been buffing with water and canvas to close the edges and saw Sivan he let his awareness narrow onto his friend, taking in the state of his body, health, lingering traces of the magic of his work and dozens of other, less easily definable things. When the elf embraced him without hesitation, Torin flushed, partly from the needy heat it kindled in his belly and the back of his neck, and partly because Timon was still watching.

The lad was smart, he surely knew that things had been slowly changing between the smith and the alchemist, but knowing was not the same thing as seeing. Regardless, he did not pull away; contrary to his embarrassment he wrapped the elf close and returned the greeting. If he was careful to let greeting be all that it was, he wasn't very careful.

"Hullo," He murmured, somehow mixing excitement at their intended purpose for the day and how much he had felt the elf's absence over the last season. A grin spread over his face as they parted,

"I hope so. I haven't checked any of the equipment. Wouldn't know what to check for." While Torin had been expanding his knowledge of world magics, his studies had not extended to alchemy. He had watched Sivan work on occasion and they had discussed it, but it didn't seem to fit in his head the same way scrivening or artificing did. Runeforging, of course, was his first magic, it fit inside like his first language, like a part of him.

Leading the way up the new set of stairs he unlocked the door before handing the key to Sivan. There were two copies; one for Torin and one to keep in the secret room in the basement, just in case. The thought occurred to him that he'd meant to bring Sivan in on the secret of his basement. Perhaps they could do that once they were done setting up the lab, unless Sivan wanted to get to work right away. Torin would not complain if he did.

Taking the crowbar he'd left there for the purpose he began levering open the crates for the elf to inspect and begin setting the neat counters and shelves lining the walls to his liking.

[Sivan]

Sivan's power in the Rune of Semblance wasn't quite so much as Torin's, but at least he had quite a bit more practice using it. Now, he generally had it engaged; he wanted to feel the world the way his friend did. They would be working together, so if they shared their senses, they might communicate more clearly when they were sharing ideas.

As he followed Torin up the stairs, he couldn't help but let his eyes settle upon the movement of his buttocks under his clothes. A season of exploring feelings wasn't enough—he knew he wanted more and he hoped now there might be more time to share. He had a slightly guilty smile when they arrived upstairs, but it quickly disappeared as Torin handed him a key and began to open the crates for him. His mind turned to the task at hand, eyes exacting as they looked over things. He nodded slowly, thinking to himself, even as he felt the heat from Torin's body emanate from the key into his hand. Everyone was connected, but it was nice to be able to sense how true that was.

"I wonder if Timon would take to alchemy or artificing more than he did to smithing," he wondered aloud. It didn't matter in the end; Timon was part of the family, so to speak, and his business acumen would be useful, especially given Torin was still young and had time to find other apprentices should he need help.

He wondered if Urs and Rivin counted as his apprentices...

Sivan set his bag down and began to unpack, putting things where it made most logical sense to have them—some mixture of Jacun's ideas and his own experiences. This was his place, and Torin's. They had shared space now after all, even if they had their separate homes.

He felt Exael gathering in the room, though it hesitated to manifest fully. It knew Torin could sense it, so perhaps it was making itself known to be polite and await an invitation.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin was, sort of, aware of Exael's presence attached to Sivan's any time the elf was nearby. At some point during the last season that presence had solidified in a way that Torin could not define in any more exacting terms than that. He understood the words associated, 'bond', 'pact', 'sacrament', but the reality of what any of those meant was only a vague set of ideas. It seemed like to personal a thing to ask about, though, as open as Exael seemed to be with personal things, perhaps Torin someday might.

He was not thinking about this as he felt the celestial being coalesce more fully into the space, he acknowledged the presence, though he could not have said exactly how he did. It was a thing of Semblance, and as good as he was at explaining Runeforging in technical detail, his ability to talk about what he sensed and did with his only rune was limited. The place that had come into existence in his mind (soul?) to contain the reality of Semblance did not operate in the same way the rest of his thinking did. Things made sense within it, but the rest of him often did not understand why or now. He had to accept that he knew things and not examine too closely why, lest his normal mind begin to spiral back toward the places he had fallen into in his threshold sickness.

So, without knowing how he sent out a welcoming greeting to the aidolon and continued to carefully pull delicate instruments from sawdust and straw.

When all was relieved of it's packaging and Sivan had gone through it, offering explanations that Torin at least understood, the smith looked over their work with a satisfied expression.

Glancing over at the elf, who was still adjusting things, he said,

"I'm glad you will be here more often." Thinking about them both working, one atop the other was comforting in a way that felt solid. "You can be here anytime."

He knew personally that, sometimes, ideas took over that would not be told to wait until regular business hours. The hope that, should Sivan turn up in the wee hours to work he might then crawl into Torin's bed upstairs was itself a fulfilling thought.

Unsure if Sivan would want to test out their new acquisitions right away he asked,

"Were there things you wanted to start on today? Do alchemical tools need to be..." He could not think of a better word, "Seasoned? If there are things for you to do I'd like to stay and watch, or, if not, I have some things I'd like to show you. More things, I suppose."

[Sivan]

It was comforting to feel energy passing between Exael and Torin. He could sense it more acutely through his bond than with his augmented senses. There was some blurring at their edges now, between Sivan and the earthbound celestial. He wondered now if Torin ever got lost in the Aetherium again, if he could blend further with his aidolon to chase him in the celestial's native plane. But there were many questions of magical theory that came to him unbidden at any given time of day or night. Perhaps he would bring it up later.

"I am as well," he agreed with a smile, arranging an alembic just so. There would be a bit of disorder when things were busy, but for now, everything was perfect. "Perhaps your musician friend will be able to make a permanent portal between our gardens..." He laughed, but didn't hate the idea either. The walk between them wasn't so very far, but he liked the idea of the properties being united despite the distance. Magic.

"You can show me. There are things I could start if you are busy, but I won't get behind if I don't start them until the morrow."

He brushed his hands together, and thought to sweep up any errant packing dust later to ensure nothing got into his concoctions. His smile was quietly excited for starting new things and having new opportunities with Torin. It was only after a beat that his mind jumped to more prurient possibilities—was Torin going to show him something erotic?

Sivan flushed.

[Torin Kilvin]

Thoughts of eroticism were, sadly, not on the young smith's mind at the moment. He tended to hyperfocus, and while that translated well into intimacy, it also meant that, when he had work on his mind, he tended to miss other cues.

Collecting an armful of crates, as many as he could, he led the way back down the set of brand new stairs.

"I'll take the rest out later." He called over his shoulder, not willing to look back between balancing and descending blind. When they got back into the blacksmithy he set the boxes down. They could be reused for something, or sold, later. A look that might have been called 'conspiratorial' on someone else's face crossed Torin's as he led Sivan over to what looked like just the side of the house. Leaning down he brushed away some grass and leaves before kneeling down and speaking a word that anyone trained in magic would recognize as something of power, even if they didn't know what kind. Suddenly, what had appeared to be plain ground was instead a set of double swinging doors in the earth. Torin grinned and then pulled them open, revealing a set of neat stairs, also new, though not quite as new as the ones that led to the alchemical lab.

"I have a basement." He said, knowing it wasn't nearly as much of an explanation as it should be. The stairs led into what appeared to be one large room. Anyone familiar with the house would be able to see that it was the size of a whole floor above it, and almost empty. There were a few things stored, a bag or two of supplies that looked like they were for the forge, a barrel that could have contained any number of things, but otherwise, it was just a big, open space.

If magic sight was used it became immediately obvious that the space was warded, against a good number of things, the magic, in fact, looked almost like the magic that Torin had used to make the Safety Net for Sivan.

[Sivan]

No slouch, Sivan carried some crates back down as well, though he couldn't match Torin for sheer strength. He wondered about endurance, though. Their work and training demanded different things of them; he didn't want a contest, but he was curious to know their relative strengths and weaknesses. People were more complex than any alchemical solution, and Torin was one of the people he wanted to know better than anyone. Perhaps it was the looming threat of war that made it all the more imperative to know these things, in case they became matters of mortal importance.

The smith's magic word unlocked a glamour and Sivan felt the aether shift and change. He nodded slowly; Torin had mentioned a cellar at some point, he thought, though he might have imagined it. Or perhaps the spirits had indicated there were subterranean spaces. He didn't know. But his smile answered his friend's.

Sivan's work with the master alchemist had put him in contact with all manner of mages, and he recognized the taste of Negation in the air, as well as other things, older things, though he didn't pay too close attention to them in case Torin wanted to introduce him to hidden wonders beyond the illusions.

"Even more room," he murmured, looking around. Alchemical goods had a limited shelf life, so he didn't think he would need to keep anything down here, but artificed works, perhaps. The more complex, possibly dangerous things they might create together—those would be best kept safe.

"Will wonders never cease?" he asked in Mythrasi, wondering if Torin would catch the meaning.

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith nodded at the assessment of the addition.

"It is, but I'm not sure, yet, what to do with it. Storage, I suppose, but it seems like it wants to be something. Does that make sense?" He used the Mythrasi word because it seemed to imply, as the basement seemed to imply, a desire for use.

A flush and grin accompanied the compliment, at least, he took it as a compliment. Realizing, belatedly, that they'd been alone together most of the day he stepped forward, body language a little shy, but intention clear. When they were only a few inches apart he raised his hand and ran it lightly through the hair at the base of the elf's neck.

"Not while you are near." It was supposed to be a little teasing, but barely managed not to be too earnest. Torin heard it in his own voice and flushed, stepped a little away again he said,

"But, uhm, that isn't all. I want to show you what I've only ever shown one person."

Stepping to the right-hand corner of the wall with the stairs on it he spoke to it, more a phrase than a word, and, for a moment, it seemed to anyone with the Semblance to see, like the magic resisted him before cracking open. There was another door, this one wooden and beautifully carved. It was clean, but looked quite old and as though it had been left untended for a long time. As Torin opened it he explained that, while the doors down were just hidden and, if you knew they were there, you could find them by feel, this door was trapped and would render anyone who tried to open it without knowing the phrase unconscious. It would also wipe their memory of the last hour before they'd tried.

The warning was stern but not as though he was lecturing, only intending to ensure Sivan never ended up on the wrong side of the trap. Inside was a very small room, only five feet square, lined with counters.

"I keep my dragonshards here, and any work that is too valuable to risk leaving out."

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded. Torin always made sense to him. The elf colored at the clever response, lips parting slightly as though in anticipation of a kiss, but Torin moved away and Sivan only took a half step in pursuit before giving it up for later. It was confusing, too, as his mind was headed in one direction and Torin was speaking of something he had only shown a few people—it was no wonder his mind went toward things they did in the dark. But it soon became clear that there was more to this place than met the eye, even the runic eye.

Blue eyes widened when a key word spoken revealed much that was hidden. It was all so clear once it revealed itself and he marveled at how something could be hidden even from his powerfully augmented senses. There would always be more he could learn; it ought to keep him humble.

He met Torin's gaze and nodded gravely at his warning. It didn't feel condescending to him, but rather proof of Torin's care. He supposed the man had learned about it the hard way.

"A secret place for valuable things, dangerous things," he murmured. "A shelter should war come. I wonder if I could train my spirits to hide my home... and Laurevere's... quietly divert attention so if foreign soldier's boots walk down the street they would just... ignore it." Sivan would ponder this at length later, wondering whether he could do the same for Torin's home with the help of the spirits taking root in his new garden.

"I wonder if we could build a sort of gate between our gardens with the help of the spirits... to link our homes."

Deciding he didn't want to wait, he stepped up and wrapped his arms around Torin, resting his forehead against Torin's.

"Thank you for sharing your secrets with me."